Yaira's blog

Last week when I saw this article about nearly 1/3 of the Chesapeake Bay being a “dead zone” this year, it felt like someone punched me in the gut. I made some kind of audible groaning sound and reeled—as much as that’s possible while sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. For this native Texan who’s lived in the Lone Star State her whole life (except for a nine-month stint in New Orleans when I was five) to be so moved by environmental trauma in another part of the country might seem odd. I mean, there are environmental traumas happening every day all around the world. Why does this one make me want to curl into a little ball of wounded sorrow?

Going to the park, to work, to the grocery store or pretty much anywhere today is venturing out into a religiously pluralistic setting. In all of those places, there are bound to be people who profess different religious beliefs than you do, or who profess no beliefs at all. In many of these settings, we keep quiet about our religious views so as not to offend or distance ourselves from others. I wonder, though, if this leaves us saying nothing real at all, and sometimes increases the distance between us rather than bringing us together in actual relationship.

It was a normal Tuesday evening—husband working late, kids outside playing, me trying to figure out what to make for dinner—when the phone rang. And at first, it seemed like a normal phone call: just an automated survey.

On Saturday, April 16th, I offered the d'var Torah, literally, "words of Torah" in the alternative worship service at Congregation Agudas Achim in Austin, TX. In Jewish congregations, one portion (or parsha) is studied each week. The parsha for this week was Leviticus 16.1-18.30, and is called Acharei Mot. My words are below:

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There were about 25 of us gathered on a Tuesday night in a synagogue in Austin, Texas: a handful of Baptists and Jews; a few Episcopalians; a couple of Methodists, Presbyterians and members of a Unity church; one Muslim; one Wiccan; one member of a Sufi order and one member of a non-denominational Christian church. Some were clergy, some volunteer and staff leaders in their religious communities, and some concerned laypeople. All were interested in learning more about how we can better work together to care for creation—people and the planet.

It was a good beginning.

Why would an interfaith environmental organization compete in a chili cook-off? Well, here are three good reasons:

1.     It was a faith-based event—the 6^th Annual Kosher Chili Cook-off in Austin, Texas, sponsored by Congregation Agudas Achim.